Luna Moth

by Brigidforest

These are bits of writing, most of them FayexSpike, that never quite made it to their own stories or into any stories I've written. Title of this little series is taken from the poem by Carl Phillips.

2. Running Backwards

A bit about Faye's past.

Running Backwards

I would just be walking down the street past the Pollock's gate, past the gates of all the others, causing Pinpon—a little Pomeranian—to yell at me for interrupting his usual five o'clock stroll by his master's gate on the usual business. I would just be walking and suddenly I'd remember everything that I bottled up for the last month. Emotions would unravel in little bundles of sadness, laughter, and fear. When fear came, I would just start hyperventilating as if I had suddenly forgotten how to breathe. My feet would pick up the pace on their own, faster and faster, until I was running. I had no control over it.

I guess it started when I was ten or something, probably around the time mother died, and then it was just me and dad. Just me and him. Dad didn't do the emotional thing. I was raised a little bit like a boy:

Faye doesn't cry. Faye never cries.

But there I was at nineteen running towards my house with tears streaking white against the makeup powder on my face and running as if it was the last time I would ever run to it again.